The man with tired eyes sits alone. He's used to sitting alone.
He takes another drag of a cigarette and waits. He's used to waiting.
A bottle of vodka rests in his right hand, his dominant hand.
He walks slowly in that ratted tee shirt he wears so often, a tired gait.
He walks as if he doesn't have a care in the world, but he does, he cares far too much, in his opinion.
He stops walking and looks up, at the clouds above. He loves the clouds.
He loves to fly. He loves to be so high, so fucking high, that he thinks he can touch the sun.
So he watches the clouds with a feeling of happiness, just for a moment.
But moments, they fade fast for the man. They leave so quickly, were they ever really there in the first place?
He's grabbed from behind, and thrown to the ground. The men beat up the poor men until his face turns bloody, his arm lays in a strange angle. He lays unconscious on that cold, cold ground.
When he finally wakes, he notices his injuries and slowly gets up.
He walks slower than usual. He walks towards her house, the man knows the route well.
He knocks on her door, and as she opens it, she gasps like she usually does. Like she's surprised. (She's never surprised at the trouble the man gets into. It was expected from the beginning.)
She takes him to the couch, hands him a towel, and asks him to lay down.
She runs to get her first aid kit, she got certified for him.
She cleans and wraps his wounds carefully, delicately. She places his arm in a sling. She gives him painkillers, but he's always in pain, it won't help she knows.
She takes him upstairs to her room, lays him down. She gets up to leave the room and let him rest.
He coughs and whispers, "Stay," so softly, she could barely hear it. But she hears it.
She sits on the edge of the bed, staying, wondering what she should do.
He whispers again, "Lay beside me." So she lies down beside him.
He cuddles against her, and she wraps her arm tenderly around him. She cares for him, too much, in her opinion.
He doesn't love her, she doesn't think so. But still, she's stayed like she always has. The man slowly falls asleep beside her.
She wonders if she should leave, but as she looks at the man asleep in her arms, she sees a different man.
He doesn't have tired eyes. He isn't in the pain she can usually see. He's not alone.
It's moments like these that make me stay, she thinks with a smile.
She loves him.
She stays, and falls asleep beside him.